Part 26 (1/2)
Before ma.s.s, the new priest, Father Ginderbach, came down the aisle and greeted Noah specifically. I hadn't heard this priest yet. Mama liked him, which could only mean I would hate him. But he surprised me by turning to Noah and signing, perfectly: Welcome, N-o-a-h. We are happy you came.
”Hah!” Noah grunted with happiness. He turned to see if I had seen this. I smiled an encouragement.
Thank you, he signed back. I love Jesus! I love Jesus! he added, using the special sign for ”Jesus.” he added, using the special sign for ”Jesus.”
And he loves you, the priest replied. the priest replied.
You know sign language?
Yes. My sister is deaf.
I don't have a sister.
You have many brothers and sisters in the church, N-o-a-h. G.o.d bless you!
”Did you know he could sign?” I asked.
”I had no idea,” Mama said.
”He said his sister is deaf.”
”He's from Memphis, I think. They just sent him down here a few months ago. I didn't know he had a sister.”
”He seems nice,” I admitted.
”Coming from you, that's high praise.”
”After Father George, Saddam Hussein would seem nice.”
”Be nice, Wiley. For once. Please!”
”He was a p.r.i.c.k,” I whispered.
”Don't curse in church. Must you provoke me?”
”It's so easy. Maybe you should lighten up a bit.”
She clamped her lips shut, ending the conversation.
Father Ginderbach did something else that was rather unexpected. When it came time for his sermon, he departed from the Gospel text for that day and offered his thoughts on Jesus's admonition: Let the little children come unto me. Let the little children come unto me.
He singled out Noah as being the childlike creature that Christ wants us all to be. He even signed during his sermon to explain special things directly to Noah that were not in his sermon.
It was rather extraordinary and I was justifiably flabbergasted. After years of being treated like a shameful pariah by Father George, Father Ginderbach had actually gone out of his way to welcome Noah to his church and to include him in his sermon, treating him as if he were indeed a beloved child of G.o.d, and just as important as all the other children in the pews that day.
I couldn't hardly believe it.
Noah smiled proudly. He never had a problem being the center of attention.
”Jesus made it clear that his kingdom is made of 'such as these,' the little ones, and that they shall see the face of G.o.d. We must never do anything to hinder the 'such as these,' not when they are so important to the kingdom,” the priest said.
After the sermon, we got more looks, but these were different. These were looks of curiosity, even acceptance, even happiness that we were there. Even Mama sat up a little straighter.
For the first time in a long, long time I felt a connection with the church of my childhood. I actually felt, for a while at least, that Noah and I might have a place in that church.
I followed him in the line for Communion.
Ginderbach gave me a curious look when he handed me the host. Since I spend so much time around deaf people, I am much more tuned-in than most to the slightest look, or glance, or suggestion of expression. As no doubt was he. His eyes clearly said he knew exactly who I was-and that I was all right in his book. It reminded me of the look I sometimes got from gay priests who knew exactly what I'd been through, and who knew there was a way through it that didn't involve losing yourself or your faith in a genuinely loving G.o.d.
The meet and greet outside after ma.s.s saw a large number of people actually bothering to stop and greet Noah like he was a human being.
”What's wrong with these people?” I whispered to Mama.
”Maybe you should go to church more often,” she suggested.
39) Striking a blow
BILL, Sh.e.l.lY, and the kids came to Mama's house for dinner, which Yankees like Jackson call lunch. Josh and Eli took Noah in hand and played Frisbee. Sh.e.l.ly and her daughter Mary, whose bosom was expanding rather rapidly, helped Mama put the finis.h.i.+ng touches on the food. and the kids came to Mama's house for dinner, which Yankees like Jackson call lunch. Josh and Eli took Noah in hand and played Frisbee. Sh.e.l.ly and her daughter Mary, whose bosom was expanding rather rapidly, helped Mama put the finis.h.i.+ng touches on the food.
Bill stood on the porch, dipping and spitting and drinking from the cooler in the bed of his truck while trying to make conversation as Papaw watched, smiling his secret smile.
”So you work at the hospital?” Bill said.
”I'm a pediatric nurse,” Jackson said.
”And he admits it,” Papaw offered.
”You're not from around here,” Bill observed, hearing Jackson's Yankee accent.
”I'm from Boston.”
”And he admits that, too,” Papaw said incredulously.
”Long way from Boston, ain't it?” Bill asked suspiciously.
”What do you do, Bill?” Jackson asked.
”I work at Lane,” he said, as if this was explanation enough. For most people in these parts, it was.
”Good deal,” Jackson said when nothing else was forthcoming.
”Y'all went camping?” Bill asked. ”Catch any fish?”
”Don't we always?” I said.
”There's a b.a.s.t.a.r.d catfish in that river that I've been trying to catch since I was fourteen,” Bill informed us. ”Son of a b.i.t.c.h takes your hook and leaves you holding your b.a.l.l.s. If I ever catch that b.a.s.t.a.r.d, I'll be holding his b.a.l.l.s and he won't be happy about it.”